Jhin the virtuoso
by 4rty
Summary: The two of them just barely got out in the rain when one of theirs who was running for the street suddenly froze in place. Slowly turning around he opened his mouth for a scream but nothing followed as a huge gape in his neck was bursting out blood instead.
1. Your life had no value before me

" _Your life had no value before me"  
_ _  
_ _  
_One more night passed. One more performance behind. Marcus was walking around the backstage gathering his papers from the floor all over the place. Today he threw them as they were given to him because he was so disappointed of the job that their maestro was doing recently. Simple and terribly arranged pitiful plays, some even with political theme for entertainment of the so called "superiors" visiting from time to time for reason no bigger than using the private lodges with different young "ladies". That was something Marcus could withstand but something so OBVIOUS as the last night performance has gone too far. He even refused to play his part and so the payment of all actors was cut in half because of him. The others on the other hand would never stand against him because only Marcus who stood between them and the director when they failed. If it wasn't for his best friend it would not matter but the man needed money in order to marry. His beloved one was already starting to look… fuller… and there was no time to waste.  
As Marcus discussed that with himself unknowing about the presence of someone else a crack from the wooden planks on the floor made him turn.  
Far behind was standing a woman in long and elegant dark cloak hiding behind one of the curtains looking for something. "Ah a visitor… They never learn not to come here." – he thought while going to "direct" the young lady. Moving in his distinctive tact he took some kind of flower from the near vase and went straight for the back of the stage. After taking the first turn behind the wall he grabbed the near rope and released the weight from the upper level repelling him straight up. With one skilled kick he pushed himself away from the wall and travelled all the way from the one side of the stage to the other hidden by the fallen curtains without even causing the slightest breeze. So smooth, so elegant, that was how he liked it. After a moment to take a breath he checked the near rope and with the flower in mouth he rushed straight down landing softly behind her. Just now he saw how pretty the young woman was. Luscious black curls falling over her delicate shoulders and partially covering her firm face lines. After a quick glance around he found himself without anything to make a proper entry so he reached for his back pocket in haste and once again not doves but a torrent of PAPERS filled the air with their flutter. As she turned he was there bowing with a rose in hand.


	2. I've outdone myself this time

_"I've outdone myself this time."_

Bravo! Bravo! – as the applause were rising vigorously flowers started raining from the upper sections all around the stage. This was the greatest success that the theatre of Khada Jhin have seen in a long time. As all the actors were running back and forth gathering for the last moments of fame together they lined in two rows as the last two of them appeared from under the stage hand in hand still breathing heavily from the last performance for the night ready for the announcement of the new owner and director of the theatre. Vestured in beautiful tailor made dress-coat mister Jones approached the stage with a huge bouquet and a dark engraved box. As the crowd settled he began with his loud and deep voice:  
–This night we have gathered here to celebrate the rise of a new star in the theatrical art. Many years have passed since such event occurred but I assure you it is all worth it because that's no other but my own very best friend… Marcus the Virtuoso! Applause everyone! For Marcus! – once again the audience roared loudly for the creator of all that entertained them for the first of many nights to come. After rising his hands in gesture the public hushed once more.  
– Now.. Marcus I would like to grant you this symbol of what you have achieved so far.– with a gentle move he opened the box revealing a golden pen. – Congratulations my friend. – with these words he gave the box and the bouquet to him and all together left the stage to join the feast.  
~

As time passed the celebration grew wilder and wilder. Once too overcrowded for Marcus he decided to retire for the evening. Jones on the other side knew his friend well and caught him on the door with one last gift.  
– There is more? You know there is no need my friend. It's always a pleasure to work with you. – he said looking at the black oak box in his friends hands.  
Smiling widely Jones opened it revealing something Marcus was not prepared for.  
There on the satin was laying a masterpiece. As if art itself has taken physical form and now was presented to him for approval. The object that grabbed the attention of Marcus was a gun but not just any gun. It was the one he instantly loved some time ago when they travelled for a performance. This one however was even better. Engraved and modified so it would fit him. Noticing the joy of his lady he smirked.  
– You knew! – her sly look always warmed his heart like nothing else.  
After last farewell with his comrade, with Viola by his side and the box on the other he disappeared in the depths of night.  
~

When the two of them came home she went to the chair next to the mirror and started grooming her hair. Shortly after she said:

– Marcus… tell me. Would you still do this final scene with another girl if I wasn't here?

– Don't be silly my dear. You know very well that no other girl is… as talented as you. – she knew him for long enough to know that his voice deepened as much only when he meant what he was saying.

– But what if I wasn't even here? What if you picked another? – he sighed softly while taking off his leather trench-coat but nothing followed. He just threw it on the near hanger and fell heavily in his handmade velvet armchair with his back propped on the one arm and his leg over the other moving back and forth knocking the base of it with his heel.

– There was NO other that night. Do you remember?... And even if there was then I would not be as good.

– Hahahaha, oh my. One would say you are more virtuous than a virtuoso my love. – Marcus threw a glance from the near sofa while murmuring something under his nose.

– Eh, if it's from you then I will survive this one. – Slowly she started nearing him with a cunning smile. Knowing what is the matter he smiled in such manner in return and when she was close enough he whispered:

– But never mention it again. - as he spoke she pressed something at him and when he followed her hand when a sharp clicking sound gabbed his attention. It was the gun in his grasp.  
–Now, how do we call it? – after hearing the sound once more he went to the table and smiled as he saw that its magazine could contain exactly four shots. That was just how he liked his compositions. Three was too poor of a number but five was too washy. Four was just right, the essence. After measuring its weight once more by hand he went to the balcony and aimed just as she taught him. The moment the trigger was pulled he shouted with surprising and uplifted tone:  
– One! - At first seemingly unchanged he stared in the gun for a few more seconds when outlines of a smile appeared. – Two! - the gun flashed with a spark of life once again. – Three! - His smile grew frenetic. – FOUR!- silence followed.

Seemingly thrilled Marcus stood there on the balcony gazing in his new asset.

– So loud but yet so silent compared to the night around us. It's like a… whisper. - she remarked with a rapt look while gazin in the night beyond the balcony.  
– Yes! Its perfect! Whisper…


	3. Sometimes, silence is loud

" _Sometimes , silence is loud"  
_ _  
_ _  
_The day advanced too much for his taste so Marcus decided to finally leave the actors at peace and let them have the rest of it. It was almost 6 and it was getting dark outside. The perfect time for going outside at a meeting or wherever they needed the enlighted touch of the Virtuoso and his lady. After a brief check of his desk one letter caught his attention. A masquerade ball. He never tough that such thing would please him. As a matter of fact it still didn't but Viola enjoyed masks so maybe this one time.  
The worst about it was that he had to hide his face with something so uncomfortable and out of date as a mask.  
On the way home he went through the nearest shop selling such "artefacts" and after some time he finally found something sufficient enough. It happened to be a metal one but still very light and fitting his "temperament" as the shopkeeper himself said in the end. Marcus felt pity for him. He was distressed enough with his current customer so what would have happened if Viola came arround with her… unusual tastes… Instead doing so he revised all masks once again and took the one that would fit her best. Even though it was definitely the one she would never pick, the shape and motives it offered were fitting her. "This woman… Always comes to me to choose what suits her best." – after a brief goodbye with the shopkeeper who probably saw enough of him for life, Marcus rushed as fast as he could when he saw the clock.  
~

– So late! How are we going to show up so late! – he never grew bored listening at her whining. It was so… unlikely for her. Almost cute.  
– Yes but we made it. - he was calming her while nearing the building. As it was cold they both had to choose their clothing and that was… time consuming… The guard at the entrance tried to halt them but as soon as Marcus lowered his mask and nodded with confidence as if he was the host himself the guard stepped back. It was impressive what people would do for you if you are famous enough. Something he did not like to use but always enjoyed it when he did.  
~

As expected the masquerade was nothing all so special. At least not before the interference of the "Virtuoso". Viola alone had so much fun watching him get angry at the poor musicians who couldn't settle under his constant assault of remarks and comments. He even grabbed a flower from the nearest vase and started conducting them. Under his lead the place slowly came back to life and when the musicians could finally manage without him was time for a dance. That was the one thing he enjoyed more than anything else but only when Viola joined. Waiting for that moment since they came in she was swift to follow his lead. In moments more and more people gathered arround the two but none could match with their technique.  
From slow and soulless the ball became lively and festive. All was going well until the night was no longer young and the bottles no longer full. After taking his leave with the musicians who still talked about him with admiration it was time for going home but this night seemed more pleasant than most.  
– A walk to the theatre my dear? – she seemed a bit surprised at his call but instead pressed herself to him and so they kept going.  
~

– Viola! – a bullet hissed next to his neck while trying to reload his gun. – Faster! Faster! - before he could put the last shell one of them reached for him with an axe still covered with the blood of the others. – You will pay! You will pay! You will pay! – hissing trough teeth he put the last bullet. – YOU! – dodging one more swing of the axe he slipped on a blood stain but still managed to shoot the attacker in the guts.  
As if time stopped in that moment. The face of the man – a terrifying mask, his body – light as a feather in the air, his emotion… true.  
Not sure what he just witnessed Marcus looked for Viola but she was nowhere to be seen. The others were comming but he didn't pay attention. With the sight of his friends on the ground and now missing Viola he rushed backstage where for his great relief she was still alive. Without losing time he gave her the gun and pushed her to the central door.  
– Go for once! GO! I'll be fine! – the hatred in her eyes grew stronger but she knew. A moment later she disappeared trough the dark doorway to the central hall he turned around bleeding and bruised to the charging wretch. For a moment he was there waiting for them to come and in the next he was laying crushed on the floor as all of them were hitting with the blunt of their weapons and then darkness took him…  
~

– Come on! Wake him up already.  
– It looks like he can't be awaken, sir… - after cursing aloud the noise of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room. This happened a couple more times and then Marcus realized it's the big thick hand of someone slapping him but there was no pain. Just his head moving left and right with each strike.  
– Hey! Don't touch her! She is mine! – the voice sounded harsh and ruthless. There was also another. Comming from somewhere further away it sounded very familiar but yet it remained nameless.  
– He is up! – I saw him open eyes! – almost instantly the hand dropped his collar and once again the ground hit him.  
– Did you really think that we won't catch you? The so called "Viola". – that alone made Marcus open eyes and try to get up but the world was still spinning and someone pressed him back on the ground with his boot.  
– Oh, look what we have here! The Virtuoso himself! Or herself? I am confused with this weakling.  
– That is what you fell for Scarlet? This? – with the last words Marcus also felt a kick in the ribs. The pain was slowly setting in and growing as time progressed.  
– Don't touch him! Scum! – the sound of loud slap followed.  
– Now, now we will get to you too. First lets arrange a small act. Give him his gun. – still no sure what is happening Marcus got lifted on his feet by someone and one hand filled with something. Only his thumb and middle finger were working. He could not even see what was wrong with the rest because his bruised eyes left only slight open cracks he could barely see through.  
What he first saw was Viola against him with a gun and the man talking something. She was crying. Slowly she pointed the gun at him and shouted something. Her moves getting shaky, someone pushing his hand with Whisper in it…  
– Do you remember what I said when we met… - not knowing if she could hear him because he couldn't hear himself. – You will be beautiful… perfect… - the realization what he has to do slowly came to him as he saw how someone put a dagger to her throat. Whisper was laying firmly in his hand, ready, waiting for it. Her eyes were filled with tears while saying something. He could see her repeating it through shaking lips. „– It was… him"…  
Lifting his gun Marcus aimed for her carefully. Measured the distance between his gun and hers and from hers to his, slow and steady he locked on his target and said softly:  
– I'm sorry… But you WILL BE! – momentarily whisper blazed and the air filled with smoke when a second gunshot thundered in responce. As the smoke cleared there was one still sitting straight and another on the ground while the pouring blood was slowly forming a little pond arround the body. One of the surrounding men neared the fallen with noisy claps:

– Bravo maestro! You had your last performance. Shooting her trigger was truly impressive… but pointless… It's time for her last performance now. - he stood tall and turned his back to the dying when someone interrupted:  
– Bur sir he is still breathing. – furious the leader grabbed the collar of the one interfering.  
–She got him square in the eye! Or you want me to check on you if it's possible to survive such a thing? - after throwing the man aside he turned to the living one. – Where I was… Oh yes… She is all yours boys! – his heavy steps headed to the exit with the words – Don't forget to "clean up" when finished. - the sinister laughter of his comrades followed and a few torches were lit.  
This night the screams of pain and agony of one brought hope to another until there was nothing else but silence.


	4. The ecstasy of opening night

" _The ecstasy of opening night"_

Time is passing slowly when one is sitting on the desk of his employer hoping for the impossible. After about an hour he finally appeared. Derval Karney. The local "royalty". Quite ironically his home was the very incarnation of lawful and just place compared to what it really was. This huge masterpiece of architecture was taller than the all other buildings and even the near watchtowers looked pitiful. Happily married he owned many shops in the lower parts of the city from where his fortune came or at least that was the matter during daytime. His most profitable "employees" as he liked to call them visited only at nighttime and for no longer than a couple of minutes in his huge office with a guard behind every corner.  
Today was rather unexpected visitation as one of them was sitting on his desk at the middle of the day.  
– To what do I owe your visit at this time? Correct me if I'm wrong but we haven't seen each other for far too long. A month? – his gaze was focused with a glimmer of disapproval and surely worse thoughts.  
– The matter is… my wife… She passed away. - without even listening the final words Derval opened a drawer and wrote something on a piece of paper. He put it in a letter and then pushed it to the visitor.  
– This is your payment for the month so far as usual. I'll close my eyes for the past few weeks but if you don't want any more members of your family to meet this faith you won't repeat that mistake ever again. - shaky the man reached for the object but instead he pushed it back.  
– Mr. Karney, sir. I'm here today to give my resignation. – at first he did not even react. Instead he put his legs on the desk and layed back in his big, leather armchair.  
– Do you remember how I got you here Dorian? Do you remember how desperate you were? Do you remember my help? – his voice was low and calm but dreadful. – Back then we were not as big and powerful as we are now, but that's no excuse to leave when you no longer need me. I OWN YOU. - this shout of his was so unexpected that some of his men trembled. This served as a reminder what a man he was. Unyielding brute with the force and means to do as he says.  
– You remember what got you here don't you? Do you know why I made you one of my men so lightly?- he knocked on the wood a couple of times in a familiar melody. It was because you caught the only one who managed to do what you ask for now.- this time he stood over the table almost bending it under the weight of his massive hands. That's why my friend we learn from history and don't make such mistakes. Now… - he pushed the letter once again. It's time for you to go. I'll be expecting you. Tonight.  
~

– Come ooon dad! He will be leaving soon. Hurry! – said the little girl as she ran through the crowd. Just like her mother- impatient and vivid she was. It took some time to find it but they were finally here. Quite surprised he recognized the remains of the once great theatre that was here… now burned to the ground and at the front of it next to a wagon a man with a leather hat was selling all kinds of toys and little devices. His entire body was unnaturally slim and his clothes were tattered. As the two approached the man lifted his head to them and revealed the red mask and goggles covering his face.  
– You there. What you have to sale? – at first he looked confused but then after a brief cough he waved at his stand.  
– Wont you even show me the courtesy of introducing yourself? – at that the man just stared at him for a moment then lowered his head mimicking a bow and coughed once more.  
– Dear boy… - he looked like he needed a break.  
– I'm afraid I ventured too far from my regular route. The weather here is only cutting my time short… On my age… The only thing that will cut it even shorter is not earning enough for food… - suddenly Julien reached for something on the stand but the seller stopped her hand and moved it aside.  
– I'm sorry darling but you don't have enough for this one. – the little girl almost turned to cry but her father hugged her and turned to him:  
– There is no price too high for me. Now give it here. – the inscrutable gaze of the seller stayed on the father for a few moments but soon after he picked the toy and called the girl to come closer.  
– Do you see this my dear? - her attention was fixed on the little music box with engraved roses on it. – This is a very special music box. I find it best to use them when traveling in a carriage or a wagon. It will perform three different songs and at midnight, but only at midnight it will perform another special one! You must be very gentle with it. – slowly he taught her how to change the songs and how to spin the little lever. Soon the little girl was happy bet her father did not look any better. He had a work to do.  
~

The time has come. The night was just starting and all who worked for Karney flocked around his office in anticipation. Some were sitting clustered while others preferred to stay alone in the shadows of the curved and muddy streets. The night air was cool and a smell of rain could be sensed. The landscape of the city looked as usual but the watchtower was not lit up this time. The guards never really stayed in it and they also forgot to keep it lit at times so it was nothing all too special. The surrounding on the street however looked different. Many of the "employees" had their guns and blades in them even now. A couple were missing too.  
– I've missed quite some for these few weeks it seems. – he said aloud when few of them turned to him.  
– They say that a madman is crawling on these streets these days. Waiting in the dark for anyone w ho crosses his path. – the man who said this was one of the oldest around. Jack was his name.  
– Nonsence. Who can possibly just start killing people and stay unnoticed by us? – this time Jack came closer so no one else could hear.  
– A mad man Dorian. Every four days we find dead people all around the place. One of ours… Or more precisely... Four of ours… every time. Sam, Daniel, Rina, Catherine were the first to go… Few days ago Zack, Lily, Ben and Billy… - seeing that his comrade is uneasy he just waved him to stop.  
– Which night is it since the last death. – Jack looked around and hissed:  
– The fourth. But not just the fourth night, it's also the fourth time this will be happening. I can feel something big coming towards us. Someone terrible…  
~

Finally. The doors of the mansion opened. At first all went for the office but it was locked. Strange smell came from inside. Instead the dining hall was wide open and the table was served. Next to the door a steward was expecting their entry. At the distant corner of the room Karney could be seen sitting in a big armchair facing the fireplace with his wife and two children laying around on the near furniture. At the door a steward with an eye-patch that was covering most of his head was putting a rose to the collar of each guest with the words:  
– Now you may proceed and take your place on the table as the host prepares. – nimble and quick he was doing his job without even slowing a single guest. Soon everyone was on the table and after turning on the music the servant left through the entrance door closing it behind.  
All guests waited in anticipation but the host did not show any intent of moving any time soon. After a few more minutes one woman and two men stood off their chairs to check on the host and almost inaudible ticking sound appeared. Unsure they approached the armchair but still nothing happened. Moments after they turned their backs a violent explosion blasted the chair of the lady causing a storm of flying wooden pieces and killing all around it in the process. Before anyone could even realize what was happening the still flying pieces of furniture exploded causing two more outbursts. The blasts were shredding everything in their reach while sending away bombs from the near furniture and spreading the carnage all over the place.  
Falling glass chandeliers, wooden planks from the table, glasses from the windows, even huge stone ornaments were falling from the ceiling crushing everyone unfortunate enough to stand under. People were screaming in a terrible cacophony. Barely alive Dorian slowly rose from the rubble finding that the explosions still kept going but he couldn't hear them. Grabbing Jack he rushed for the windows as many others did. On the way out he saw all kinds of horrific deaths. People torn apart from the explosions, ravaged by glasses, impaled by wooden and metal shrapnels and in the end of the room still intact was sitting Dervan Karney with his family and each one of them with a gunshot wound just resting as they were left by the one who did it.  
The two of them just barely got out in the rain when one of theirs who was running for the street suddenly froze in place. Slowly turning around he opened his mouth for a scream but nothing followed as a huge gape in his neck was bursting out blood instead.  
Dorian turned to see what was there he witnessed a familiar silhouette. A slim figure was moving all around the cracked roof shooting at them on the run. Every shot he made was the death of someone below. It was all so unreal until the sense of sound started to return.  
– Dance for me! – he was shouting and laughing hysterically.  
Someone on the ground screamed:  
– A grenade!... – too late. Without wasting any more time Dorian shot at him a few times but with no luck. He took Jack who was shaking and started pulling him to the nearest street but just after they passed the corner Jack pulled over and refused to move.  
– Come on! He is still there! Hurry! – The old man just waved him to go and pulled his guns. Seconds passed but Dorian did not leave and his old comrade grew furious at the sight of that. By revealing the hole in his chest he tried to speak but blood choked him and so he turned back aiming for his murderer who was spinning and posing for every shot in some strange semblance of a dance. Instantly turning around the young man ran for his home while a hail of gunshots kept thundering in the night.  
– Almost there. – he was talking to himself while desperately running to the house.  
When he finally reached the place he noticed something carved on the wooden door "Prepare… for your finale" but moved straight in for his daughter. In no time he put her in the first carriage he saw and climbed on top hitting the whip as hard as he could. Speeding towards the entrance of the city after a slight shine in the night he felt something pierce his shoulder throwing him off in the mud. " That's it. I'm done." – he thought and looked the horses who kept going. Something buzzed around him and blew off the rose from his pocket. There was a piece of paper wrapped around the rose "I will touch your heart – the Virtuoso". No word could explain the fear Dorian Jones felt while anticipating the death of his own child as the carriage advanced. In time fear grew stronger and stronger but nothing happened. After a shine in the distance appeared he tried to protect himself but his hand - pierced and thrown aside unable to move. Knowing what followed he stood strong with tears in his eyes awaiting and a red flash from the distance was soon to follow.  
– Thank you. – after a moment he fell still holding the rose in hand. The night quieted and the cool slowly falling drops shining on the light of the street lamps rinsed any trace of what happened this night. Only the sounds of the town clock announcing the struck of midnight could b e heard. One, two, three and after a brief moment of silence a deep heavy blast echoed from the city outskirts.


End file.
